


Age Before Beauty

by Heronfem



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, First Kiss, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra is more than a little enamoured with the Inquisitor.  There's just the small problem with Max being half her age.</p>
<p>And the problem that he doesn't seem to see it as a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Age Before Beauty

He was so _young_. 

Cassandra watched as Max bounded up from where Cullen had easily thrown him across the ring, light as a feather and eager to try again. Cullen actually laughed, getting back into position so Max could try and figure out the move again. He was such a slender, willowy little thing, but so breathtakingly beautiful. The epitome of the word delicate, their little Inquisitor, and a mage on top of it all that wanted nothing more than to please. Cullen, in an attempt to keep him from being killed should Templars come for him, was trying his best to teach him some basic defense. It was... well, it was an ongoing process.

"Cassandra!"

She shook herself from her thoughts, and couldn't help smiling as he loped over to her, curly black hair askew and cheeks flushed. Cullen leaned on the fence, grinning as he watched them. Bastard. He knew damn well about her interest in the Inquisitor, and he was not helping matters by encouraging either of them.

"Cassandra, Cullen said you could teach me more throws this evening," he said eagerly, his pretty blue eyes wide with innocence. "Would you? Please?"

Damn the man. She glowered at Cullen, who grinned wickedly and went to retrieve his coat. "I... suppose I could," she said reluctantly, and Max brightened.

"Thank you, Cassandra!" He took her hand, pressing a quick kiss to it before darting off with a huge grin, as if he'd just stolen something. She could feel her face go bright red. 

_Half your age_ , she scolded herself as Cullen cackled from the other side of the yard.

oOo

She sat heavily across from The Iron Bull in the crowded dinner hall, and glared. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, a tad uncertain.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked, eyeing her.

"Max," she said sharply, and he grinned, setting the fork down.

"Ahhh. I see. Guilt starting to get to you, then?" 

Damn all these men. "I am not _guilty_ as I have done nothing," she said stiffly, feeling the first hint of pink dare to grace her cheeks. The Iron Bull considered this, lacing his fingers together and fixing her with a piercing stare.

"But you want to."

"I- would not be opposed," she said with great reluctance, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"But the guilt is still sitting there like a knife in your chest," he said, not unkindly. "You have two options."

And this is why she liked The Iron Bull. He was just so refreshingly straightforward about these sorts of things, something she valued.

"First," he continued, "you can choose to push the knife deeper. Let that guilt fester until you can't feel a damn thing but it any more. Speaking as someone who's only recently had that festering ache lanced, I really don't recommend that."

"And the second?"

"Pull the knife out," he said simply. "Take your armor off, ditch the helmet that's blinding you, and _look_ at our sweet little Max. And see how he's looking back at you. And then decide if you intend to bed him, or if you're going to let this pass away quietly in its sleep."

She swallowed hard, looking at the table. "I don't know if I can do that," she admitted. "It is just- he is so _young_."

"And the nobles you humans marry off to thirty year old men, the girls of eighteen, do you see a problem with the gap there?" He asked. She frowned.

"It is much more acceptable for women to marry up in age," she said, and he raised his eyebrow, waiting patiently. "But... I see your point. But he is very literally half my age!"

He spread his hands, shrugging with all the eloquence of a master bard. "Two options," The Iron Bull said. "Pay attention to him, Cassandra. Not with eyes that are taught to fear what he is, but with hands and a heart that see far more clearly _who_ he is. And like I said, I think you'll see him looking right back at you."

Cassandra bit her lip, and said quietly, "And... what if he _is_ looking back at me? What then? How can I simply accept that?"

"Did I say acceptance was simple?"

She nodded slowly, sighing. "Thank you, The Iron Bull."

"Any time."

oOo

Max was long and slim and lean and beautiful and plenty of other descriptors, and Cassandra half wanted to scream as she watched him chat with Dorian by a water barrel, stripped down to his leggings as he poured water over himself to clean off the worst of the days grime. If not for the fact that she knew full well Dorian saw Max as more of a younger brother than anything else, she would have been jealous.

He was so angular, thin after years of running around the Tower and made more angular still from all the running about they did around the countryside. He was muscled, certainly, but his hipbones were prominent, and she almost ached to hold him against her. He was a beauty, all warm, tawny skin, delicate, dainty features, and long, fluttering fingers. Dorian looked as bulky as Iron Bull beside him, while Max was little more than a wisp.

Dorian's eyes flicked to her, and she bit back a snarl as he said, loud enough for her to hear, "Well, I must be off. Varric's promised me a game tonight, and I should really endeavor to be there on time."

"Later, then," Max said brightly, and turned to her, still dripping water. "Cassandra! You look lovely."

"I- This is my normal attire," she said awkwardly, startled.

"The sunset is making your skin glow like bronze," Max said warmly, walking over to her with his shirt in hand, making no move to put it on. He was as tall as her, but only just, and her mouth went a little dry as he looked up at her from under his lashes. "You look happier than usual this evening, my lady."

Maker. She was fervently grateful she had no anatomy to give her away. 

"Thank you," she said softly, and swallowed hard. "Shall we go practice?"

"Oh, yes," he said, and she almost quailed under the look of pure, straightforward desire he shot her, dainty mouth curving into a smile. "Though I was wondering if we could practice pins..."

oOo

Somehow, Maker only knew, she made it through the practice and the days beyond. And then came a trip to the Forbidden Oasis.

“You like him,” Sera said as they sat at camp, Max just within sight, lounging in the water with only the tiniest amount of clothing on. Maker forbid the man actually wear anything that would keep him covered. “Like, _like_ him.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” Cassandra asked, too tired to put any venom into her words. Dorian dropped down onto the rocks next to them, shirtless and wearing leggings rolled up to his knees. He was practically basking to be in the warmth.

“Absolutely,” Dorian said firmly before sprawling out on the rock to sun himself. “So get to it.”

“Why aren't you on him already?” Sera demanded. “Which, ew, because bits, but really! Is it the magic thing? Because he doesn't do it much. Better than Dorian about not doing it.” This got her a vague rude gesture from Dorian, who had closed his eyes and didn't seem much inclined to opening them.

“No,” Cassandra sighed. “No, it is not because he's a mage, though that does make things... more complicated.”

“What then?” Sera demanded, propping her chin on her hands.

“Yes, do tell,” Dorian drawled, eyes still firmly closed.

She grunted in disgust, looking on with a little longing as Max scooped up water with a broken clay pot and poured it over himself, the water splashing warm over his beautiful skin. “He is half my age,” she said with great reluctance. “I... it would be wrong of me to pursue him.”

Sera frowned, eyeing her. “What? Why? He's all grown, and you're all grown, and you both have the right bits that the other wants.”

Cassandra tucked her legs up around her chest, wrapping her arms around herself. “But he has been in the Circle most of his life, he surely-”

“Oh, hush,” Dorian interrupted, pale eyes snapping open to survey her severely. “You're acting like he's some child, and not a man grown and highly capable, leading our Inquisition and all that rot. Do you think he wouldn't be utterly capable of telling you no?”

She blinked, staring at the lean, beautiful form in the distance, and said, very intelligently, “Huh.”

oOo

The desert nights were always wild with light, the stars a glorious blanket above them, and Cassandra found herself standing on the edge of the dunes, staring out into the vast stretch of beautiful nothing that carried on for miles beyond. The world was wide, unfolding before her in waves of land that seemed to go on to infinity. The moons were rising, one above the other, bright and full in their shapes.

“My lady.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the heat of the desert and letting the warmth fill her as Max stopped at her side. When she reopened them, he was bathed in moonlight, eyes gleaming bright in the darkness, an ethereal beauty. He seemed pale as alabaster, still as a statue.

“Maxwell,” she said softly, and he reached out, taking her hand. 

“Tell me,” he said softly. “If my advances are not what you want, just say. I'll stop.”

“It's not that,” she said wretchedly, and he dipped his head to kiss the back of her hand, lips soft as silk. She wanted them all over her, she wanted to wreck him in ways he'd never known before. “I... Are you sure? That you would like to pursue this? Me?”

“Is there a reason I wouldn't?” He asked, looking up through his lashes at her.

_Maker, why do you send me such sweet, beautiful demons to tempt me?_

“I am twice your age,” she began, but he shrugged, the words rolling off of him.

“And yet, here I am, wanting you to want me, and you wanting me despite it.”

Cassandra licked her lips, and Max stepped forward, reaching up with his free hand to cup her cheek, his eyes practically glowing. He was all power and sweetness, and she wanted nothing more than to bite that sweet, tender mouth into kiss bruised plumpness.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, and his eyes brightened as he leaned in, mouth warm and sweet against hers as she wrapped her arms around him to hold him close while the desert held the moonglow on the sands.

When they broke, he pressed their foreheads together, breath mingling in the darkness. 

“Maker,” he breathed. “I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

“How long?” Cassandra asked, feeling giddy, a smile growing on her face as her hands moved to his hips, rubbing lazy circles on the jut of bone. He groaned, smiling as his hips twitched into her hands.

“Probably about the time you walked into that room I was being held in.”

She groaned, and he laughed, pulling her in to kiss her again, and this time, it was full of easy, sweet familiarity.

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt on the kink meme: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13890.html?thread=56640322#t56640322
> 
> "Bioware amusingly stated that regardless of race/gender/class, the Inquizitors canonical age is "between 20 and 40". It is therefor entirely plausible for Cassandra to be almost twice the age of the male inquizitor she romances (she was born 9:03/04 and the game starts in 9:41 dragon). I'd love a angsty fill with Cass struggling with her staggeringly strong attraction to a man (preferably a mage) so much younger than her, and really struggling with his shameless flirting and the possibility that he wants her as much as she wants him." 
> 
> Not quite that, but so it goes.


End file.
